The Writer's Chair

The Voices

I'm sitting alone in an partially empty room surrounded by complete darkness. I have been in this room many times before at different points in my life. Lately, I have found myself here more than ususal. It seems the only purpose this room serves is to make me ponder the years of pain, struggle, anguish, grief, hurt, abuse, shame, and the guilt that I've carried around with me my entire life. Since it is completely dark and I am so cold and alone, it leaves me no choice but to reflect on a life that has not been very gracious, loving, or kind. It seems as though I am only sentenced to this room for short periods of time and I only come here when those thoughts get stronger and stronger and I don't feel like fighting them anymore.

     I've watched so many others surpass me and accomplish things I could have only dreamed or imagined. This thing called life has been anything but one I desire to live in another day.

     I just sit here wishing that I could have experienced life through someone else's body, heart, soul, and mind. Oh sure, many people have tried to tell me that things will get better, but I never believed them. Maybe I just don't want to. Maybe, this room also represents a place I can hide in from all the mistakes I've made and all the bad choices that have caused me to get into so much trouble, time and time again. Maybe, this room is my own personal place of solace. It's neither heaven nor hell.

    The only problem is that everytime I come here and feel around the room, there are things here that I know have been designed for one purpose and one purpose only...suicide. I don't know why it took me all of these years to figure it out, but this room is where I can come to anytime I want to take my life and end this torment, forever. Maybe God (if there is one) will send me back in a different body with a different soul, so I don't ever have to feel this type of pain again in the body I've been given. I mean, nobody would mind right? I'm sure I'm not the only who has been in a room like this, right?

     I have sought so many different methods to make the pain go away, but none of them worked. I tried drugs, but that didn't work. I tried alcohol and that didn't work either. I've even cheated on my wife and my taxes. Not only didn't that work, but it almost broke my family apart and sent me to jail. We went to counseling which only worked for a little while. My wife is this bible believer and we even went to her Pastor for counseling, but that was also temporary. He asked me if I've ever tried prayer before. I don't know how to pray. Who do I pray to? Who will listen to someone with such a pathetic existence?

     The one thing I hate about being in this room is the voices I keep hearing. Why won't the voices go away? They never go above a whisper, but they also never stop. Everytime I try to concentrate on the bad thoughts, I get distracted by those voices. It is as if someone or something doesn't want me to focus on the negative things I've done. But who needs me? What do they need me for? Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, there it is. I'm ready to take the final step; to end it all. That is all I ever think about when I'm in here and it is also the one thing I have never tried. I feel around the room to choose my method of relief. Should I hang myself? Take the pills? How about the gun? Yeah, the gun I thought ... that's quicker.

     Just as I am about to reach for it, (the gun) out of nowhere a door bursts open and the whole room immediately gets bright with this piercing light that totally destroys the darkness. It is so bright I can't even look in the direction it's coming from. I guess from sitting in the dark for so long, the sharp rays burn my eyes. With the opened door and the light that comes in with it also brings the voices in louder and clearer. I could have sworn some of them seemed very familiar and I think I even heard my name called a few times. After rubbing my eyes to try and see through the door, I noticed an outstretched hand yearning for me to grasp it. I look back at the deadly vices that continue to beckon for me to make a decision. As I stand there hesitant, wondering which way I should go, before I can give any more thought, the hand grabs me through the door and it slams shut behind me. The noise makes me jump and I realized I was in my bed.

     "Daddy! Daddy! Wake up, Wake up." "We made you some breakfast in bed," my children joyously bellowed as they jumped on my chest and gave me a kiss. "Honey, are you alright? You were tossing and turning all night," my wife said as she rubbed my head. "Oh my God, you're sweating. You seem to be in a troubled sleep." "Were you having another one of those bad dreams again?"

     "Yes, Yes, I was having a bad dream. That's exactly what I was having," I responded groggily while still trying to focus on my surroundings. I sat up in the bed, stretched out my arms and embraced my family ever so tightly. With a tear streaming down my face I said, "Starting next Sunday we are all going to church. I want us to commit ourselves as a family." "I've tried everything else, I think it's time I finally gave God a try."

     My wife looked at me and said, "That's what I've been praying for every night." "I didn't know how to approach you on the subject so I just told God." "In the bible it says that the unbelieving husband will be sanctified by the prayers of the believing wife." "I usually wait until you are sound asleep before I start praying so I don't disturb you. On the nights you toss and turn or have one of those bad dreams is when I pray a little longer and a little louder." "Sometimes the children join me. I'm surprised our voices don't bother you and wake you up."

     My daughter reached up to wipe the tear off my cheek and asked me, "Daddy, why are you crying? Are you alright?" I just looked deep into her loving and very sincere eyes and said, "I am now baby girl, I am now." I looked at my family who just stood there smiling back at me.

     Somehow I knew I would never see that dark room ever again. I also now knew who the voices belonged to. It was my family praying for me when I couldn't pray for myself. It was the power of their prayers that protected me even while I was sleeping. It was their voices that I kept hearing through the walls and behind the door of the dark room which always distracted me from reaching for an escape from this life. I further realized that whenever I was seconds away from using one of the tools to take my life is when God himself stepped in and opened the door because the voices kept asking him to deliver me. That also explained the bright light that pierced every inch of the room and why I could never look directly into it. It was his glory shining through on everything it touched. I believe it's purpose was to illuminate my situation by showing me that I was about to make the ultimate worst choice I could ever make. A choice of which there is no return and one that was not mine to make. That's why even when I looked back still trying to figure out what I should do, his hand pulled me from the snare because he wasn't ready to take me yet.

     I snapped out of my daze and looked at my wife and children and said, "Your voices didn't bother me at all. In fact, they saved my life." "From now on, I will join you when you pray. Maybe our voices will reach someone else and protect them while they are in their dark room."

     "What is the dark room daddy?," my children asked innocently. I replied, "Let's just say it is a place I won't ever have to go back to because of your prayers. Now let's see what you cooked for me." I turned to my wife and asked her, "Sweetheart, by the way, were you and the kids praying for me last night or this morning?"

She looked at me and said, "Well, we only prayed briefly last night, but I got them up early this morning to cook you breakfast for Fathers Day."

    

The Moral of the story is:

    If you also have a dark room in your life that represents a place of pain, hurt, torment, anguish, and distain; it is a possibility that what has been keeping you alive is the fact that someone is praying for you too. If you are like the man in the story and you've tried everything else, that dark place you are in just might be God's way of telling you that it's time to give him a try.

    After giving his life to God, the man never went back to the dark room. He also realized there is much for him to live for and I'm sure you will too. He is now praying every night with his family. Who knows, maybe one of the voices you hear when you go to the dark room just might be his.

by M.E. Lindsey